…5…4…3…

August 2, 2039.

That’s the date I will die, according to this World Population Website.

Oh, it gives all kinds of other equally cheerful information. Like the number and percent of people on the planet younger than me (as of this writing 7,571,041,802; 94%) as well as the much smaller number and percentage older (502,705,603; 6%). And, for even more enjoyment, you can watch the number on the left side constantly get larger, while the right side gets smaller.

Significant dates are given. My birthday- which is supplied by me (May 28, 1953) and the date I turned 18 (May 28, 1971). No big surprise there. Some interesting dates were the day I became the 1 billionth person on the planet (November 21, 1964), along with 2 billionth (November 10, 1974), just a few days shy of ten years later. Three billion came about 6 months faster, April 30, 1984. Four billion on September 30, 1992, one year and seven months faster. We hit five billion seven years and ten months later, on July 23, 2001. Six billion came along on March 4, 2010, slowing down the billion new person rate to 8 years, 9 months. Seven billion came along on July 3, 2018, 8 years and 4 months later. I’ll be the 8 billionth person on this more crowded blue ball on February 17, 2028. Seems we’re slowing down a little. I’ll make nine billion on May 13, 2039, celebrate my birthday two weeks later, and then check out about 2 months after that.

Turns out if I lived in Canada, I’d live a little more than a year more. Zimbabwe would take me out 6 years earlier. People born on my birthday in Australia, Norway, and Japan are all going to outlive me. Almost all of Asia (except Japan), South America, Africa, and a large amount of Europe will pass before my very eyes. I have my ideas about some of the places, but on a lot, I wonder why.

People have asked me from time to time if I would like to know when I would die. I usually told them I’d rather know where rather than when. Because then, I wouldn’t go there.

Seeing a date, even though it is just a statistical average, brings some things home. It’s less than 16 years away. Sixteen years ago was 2007. Doesn’t seem that long ago.

I heard someone say that it isn’t that life is so short, it’s that death is so long. The great 20^th century philosopher Woody Allen once said “I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying.” He also said (my favorite quote), “There are worse things in life than death. Have you ever spent an evening with an insurance salesman?”

Stoic philosopher Seneca said, “It is not that we have a short space of time, but that we waste much of it.” When I think that I probably have less than 16 years left, and there is so much I have not seen or done that I would like to see and do, I feel like a kid at Disneyland who has only one day and wants to ride every ride and see every show, yet knows he will not only not be able to, but will spend a lot of that time standing in line. Tempus, it seems, is fugiting.

I’m a follower of Jesus. And because of that, I believe that my life (and yours) will go on after this earthly veil has been torn away. But I am not really in a hurry for the tearing. Recently a few close friends have died. They knew they were dying, and were ready, even anxious, for the transition to their new home to come. While I am not afraid of death, and I know it must come, I don’t have that “I can hardly wait to get to heaven” attitude some have expressed. I like it here. Like it a lot.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, a psalm attributed to Moses has the line, “Teach us to number our days so we may gain a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12) Obviously, none of us knows exactly how much longer we will live. An accident, disease, or heart attack may take me out tomorrow. Or I may live into my 90s, like Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter. Regardless of the unknown length, like the Carters, I don’t want to waste my time. There’s more to do than stand in line.